He takis the knichtis in to the field
Enarmit under helm and scheild;
Victor he is at all mellie :-
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
That strong unmerciful tyrand
Takis, on the motheris breast sowkand,
The babe full of benignitie :—
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
He takis the campion in the stour,
The captain closit in the tour,
The lady in bour full of bewtie :-
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
He spairis no lord for his piscence,
Na clerk for his intelligence ;
His awful straik may no man flee :-
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
W. DUNBAR (The lament for the Makaris quhen he was seik).
LONDON, thou art of townès a per se,
Sovereign of cities, seemliest in sight,
Of high renown, riches and royalty,
Of lords, barons, and many a goodly knight,
Of most delectable lusty ladies bright,
Of famous prelates in habits clerical,
Of merchants full of substance and of might:
London, thou art the flower of cities all!
Gem of all joy, jasper of jocundity,
Most mighty carbuncle of virtue and valour;
Strong Troy in vigour and in strenuity,
Of royal cities rose and geraflour;
Empress of townès, exalt in honour,
In beauty bearing the throne imperial,
Sweet Paradise, precelling in pleasure:
London, thou art the flower of cities all!
347. MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS
My mind to me a kingdom is !
Such present joys therein I find
That it excels all other bliss
That earth affords, or grows by kind.
Though much I want which most would have,
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
No princely pomp, no wealthy store,
No force to win a victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,
No shape to feed a loving eye,
To none of these I yield as thrall.
For why? My mind doth serve for all.
I see how plenty surfeits oft;
And hasty climbers soon do fall.
I see that those which are aloft
Mishap doth threaten most of all.
They get with toil, they keep with fear;
Such cares my mind could never bear.
Content to live, this is my stay:
I seek no more than may suffice.
I press to bear no haughty sway.
Look, what I lack my mind supplies.
Lo, thus I triumph like a king,
Content with that my mind doth bring.
Some have too much, yet still do crave!
I little have, and seek no more.
They are but poor, though much they have;
And I am rich, with little store.
They poor, I rich; they beg, I give;
They lack, I leave; they pine, I live.
I laugh not at another's loss;
I grudge not at another's pain,
No worldly waves my mind can toss ;
My state at one doth still remain.
I fear no foe, I fawn no friend;
I loathe not life, nor dread my end.
Some weigh their pleasure by their lust,
Their wisdom by their rage of will,
Their treasure is their only trust,
A cloaked craft their store of skill;
But all the pleasure that I find
Is to maintain a quiet mind.
My wealth is health and perfect ease,
My conscience clear, my choice defence.
I neither seek by bribes to please,
Nor by deceit to breed offence.
Thus do I live: thus will I die.
Would all did so, as well as I !
IN going to my naked bed, as one that would have slept,
I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept.
She sighed sore, and sang full sweet to bring the babe to rest,
That would not cease; but crièd still, in sucking at her breast.
She was full weary of her watch, and grieved with her child;
She rocked it, and rated it, till that on her it smiled.
Now have I found this proverb true to prove, The falling out of faithful friends, renewing is of love.'
Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write,
In register for to remain of such a worthy wight.
As she proceeded thus in song unto her little brat
Much matter uttered she of weight, in place whereas she sat :
And proved plain there was no beast, ne creature bearing life
Could well be known to live in love, without discord and strife.
Then kissed she her little babe, and sware, by God above,
The falling out of faithful friends, renewing is of love.
She said that neither king, ne prince, ne lord could live aright,
Until their puissance they did prove, their manhood, and their might,
When manhood shall be matched so, that fear can take no place,
Then weary works make warriors each other to embrace,
And leave their force that failed them; which did consume the rout
That might before have lived their time, their strength and nature out.
Then did she sing, as one that thought no man could her reprove,
The falling out of faithful friends, renewing is of love.
She said she saw no fish, ne fowl, ne beast within her haunt
That met a stranger in their kind, but could give it a taunt.
Since flesh might not endure, but rest must wrath succeed,
And force the fight to fall to play, in pasture where they feed,
So noble Nature can well end the work she hath begun ;
And bridle well that will not cease her tragedy in some.
Thus in her song she oft rehearsed, as did her well behove,
The falling out of faithful friends, renewing is of love.
'I marvel much, pardy,' quoth she, 'for to behold the rout,
To see man, woman, boy, and beast, to toss the world about;
Some kneel, some crouch, some beck, some check, and some can
smoothly smile,
And some embrace others in arms, and there think many a wile.
Some stand aloof at cap and knee, some humble, and some stout,
Yet are they never friends in deed, until they once fall out!
Thus ended she her song, and said before she did remove
The falling out of faithful friends, renewing is of love.
349. O MAY I JOIN THE CHOIR INVISIBLE
O MAY I join the choir invisible
Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence: live
In pulses stirred to generosity,
In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn
For miserable aims that end with self,
In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars,
And with their mild persistence urge man's search
To vaster issues.
351. A LAMENT FOR FLODDEN
I'VE heard them lilting at our ewe-milking,
Lasses a' lilting before dawn o' day;
But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning—
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.
At bughts, in the morning, nae blythe lads are scorning,
Lasses are lonely and dowie and wae;
Nae daffin', nae gabbin', but sighing and sabbing,
Ilk ane lifts her leglin and hies her away.
In har'st, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering,
Bandsters are lyart, and runkled, and grey :
At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching—
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.
At e'en in the gloaming, nae swankies are roaming
'Bout stacks wi' the lasses at bogle to play;
But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie-
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.
Dool and wae for the order, sent our lads to the Border!
The English, for ance, by guile wan the day;
The Flowers of the Forest, that fought ay the foremost,
The prime of our land, lie cauld in the clay.
We'll hear nae mair lilting at our ewe-milking;
Women and bairns are heartless and wae ;
Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning—
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.
ALMIGHTY Father! let thy lowly child,
Strong in his love of truth, be wisely bold-
A patriot bard by sycophants reviled,
Let him live usefully, and not die old!
Let poor men's children, pleased to read his lays,
Love, for his sake, the scenes where he hath been;
And, when he ends his pilgrimage of days,
Let him be buried where the grass is green;
Where daisies, blooming earliest, linger late
To hear the bee his busy note prolong,-
There let him slumber, and in peace await
The dawning morn, far from the sensual throng,
Who scorn the wind-flower's blush, the redbreast's lonely song.
353. THE LAND WHICH NO ONE KNOWS
DARK, deep, and cold the current flows
Unto the sea where no wind blows,
Seeking the land which no one knows.
O'er its sad gloom still comes and goes
The mingled wail of friends and foes,
Borne to the land which no one knows.
Why shrieks for help yon wretch, who goes
With millions, from a world of woes,
Unto the land which no one knows?
Though myriads go with him who goes,
Alone he goes where no wind blows,
Unto the land which no one knows.
For all must go where no wind blows,
And none can go for him who goes;
None, none return whence no one knows.
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